


I know when a good thing is gone

by leiascully



Series: New York AU [9]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara doesn't wear her wedding ring. He had hoped that her husband didn't either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know when a good thing is gone

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: New York AU  
> A/N: This increases the total wordcount of the NY AU by about a third. Yeesh. Many thanks to the inimitable [**dashakay**](http://dashakay.livejournal.com/) and [**taragel**](http://taragel.livejournal.com/) for keeping me honest and making sure my bias didn't show too much. I think I got the title from a song, but I honestly can't remember what it was and Google has failed me on that score.  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Lee stumbles through the next few months in a daze of pleasure. He sees Kara most days, or at least most nights, and it's good. They spend more time in Kara's apartment than they do in his. She teases it's because she can't kick him out of his own place if she tires of him; he knows it's half-true, but it doesn't seem like much of a possibility when she can't even let him out the door for work without dragging him back inside for another five kisses. He has to duck into a Duane Reade one Monday morning for concealer to cover a blazon of hickeys on his neck. The cashier smirks at him.

They don't talk about love, they don't talk about time, they don't talk about the future. Somehow that's okay. Kara has taken the photo of her and Sam off the bedside table and that feels like progress. He felt guilty every time he saw it or caught the end of a Suns game, but he can't stop this. Nothing's ever felt so right, even if it's wrong, even if she's wearing someone else's ring. She says everything's arranged and he believes her. Lee takes it a day at a time and it's enough. He'll be patient this time. He has rushed into love before, or at least into saying it. He feels it now, that burst of light and life when she comes into a room, but she's got a wild side, a skittishness he can't tame or soothe, and there's no way he's going to push her and lose all of this. After the first few weeks, he stops worrying that the door will be locked against him when he buzzes her building, and he quietly makes a copy of his key that jingles waiting on the ring. He has known since the moment he saw her; he can bide a while longer.

After all those years as a Navy brat, moving from base to base, he got itchy feet, always looking for something. He traveled the world looking for the place where he'd feel right. He went to a therapist a couple of times years ago, at the behest of a girl he didn't really love; the good doctor wanted to know why he was trying to outrun his childhood. "Because it was shitty, and I was lonely, and now that Zak's grown, no one can stop me," Lee said, and walked out, and bought a ticket on the ferry. These days he doesn't want to run anywhere. He deletes the special deals from travel sites from his inbox without reading them and finds new restaurants in the city instead. He knows it's a paradox, this fixed notion of home in contrast with his wanderlust, but seeing Kara with her arms flung across his pillow satisfies both notions. He brings coffee in and sits on the edge of her bed and she opens one eye, glares at him, and shuts it determinedly, but she still reaches for the cup.

Some nights they hit the bar with Zak; some weekends they double-date, though Lee has to promise to make it up to Kara afterward, and Zak's rarely with the same woman more than twice. Kara and Zak get along and that's kind of a relief. Lee's spent too long actually making friends with his little brother to surrender that now. He's not sure Zak approves exactly, since he seems to regard Kara as an attractive time bomb, but at least he doesn't have to worry that Zak wants Kara for himself - it's been an issue for them in the past - and they all get along well enough.

One surprisingly sunny weekend toward the end of April, he and Kara and Zak drive down to Jersey and spend the day on a boat Zak has borrowed from someone. They go out across the bay, and Zak insists on taking touristy pictures of himself posing on deck in front of the Statue of Liberty. Later, while Zak naps on the top deck, Kara throws the engine into idle, drags Lee down to the cabin, and tears his clothes off. The boat drifts almost under the bridge before they surface and turn the thing around, Zak still snoring and sunburned. Kara hauls the throttle open, speeding across the water. The boat hits the crests of the little waves and the water sprays over Lee's face and his shoulders and finally wakes Zak, who scrambles down into the cabin swearing at them. Lee and Kara are laughing under the bright sun and the boat feels like it's flying and Lee flings his arms out in a rush of joy that's only compounded when Kara steps into them, leaning against his chest. It's as close to the perfect life as Lee has ever gotten.

He is ludicrously, dizzyingly happy.

Spring warms into summer. New York acquires the familiar whiff of garbage he's almost grown fond of - he's lived longer here than anywhere, but it hasn't been home until now. One Saturday morning in May, Lee is standing on the sidewalk waiting for Kara. It is a perfect day already: warm, nearly clear, full of promise. The city rumbles around him as he stands there, pedestrians pushing past him and the vibration of traffic palpable through his feet as a breeze brushes his face. They are going to brunch at a restaurant down in Central Park, almost on the water, a cool, cave-like place he discovered a while ago but hasn't had a chance to take her to yet. They are still in the stage of spending most of their time in bed, and meals have been hasty affairs, pasta cooked by Kara wearing only a t-shirt, eaten standing in the kitchen until he can't take the sight of her mouth and and he bends her over the counter, or take-out on his couch which devolves quickly into soy sauce or chili-tinged kisses. This morning will be different: Lee will take her out, wine her and dine her, prove that he's proud to be with her. Even if she doesn't care, he wants to share the world with her.

He takes a deep breath of flowers and refuse as he stands under the awning, watching her come down the stairs. The city revolves around her like she's in a movie. Even the traffic sounds different, one engine purring above the rest like a grace note. She is wearing a white dress that makes her look like an angel in a Renaissance painting, and she has curled her hair so that it waves softly around her face. She grins at him in that way that makes him want to skip brunch and just savor her instead, but instead he nods, tipping his head to show her he's ready to go. She raises her eyebrows at him in a way that promises she understands exactly what he's thinking and pushes open the door.

Idly, Lee realizes that that purring engine has been coming closer, and that it's attached to the motorcycle pulling up to the curb, piloted by someone tall in black leathers, dark jeans, and a mirrored helmet. The guy's silhouette seems familiar. The knot of tourists swarming past pushes Lee back toward the wall of the building. Kara pushes through them and pauses, eyebrows crinkling, and Lee takes a step forward as the tall guy swings his leg over the bike, kicks the stand down, takes one long stride, and sweeps Kara into his arms, twirling her around. She laughs a little, rolling her eyes and pulling off the guy's helmet. His face is familiar too. He kisses her soundly. Lee, fury rising as he shoves past the last of the tourists, can't help but notice she kisses him back, though with slightly less enthusiasm. The guy sets her down. The light glints off his wedding ring. Lee's stomach sinks. Kara doesn't wear hers. He had hoped that her husband didn't either.

"You've got a contract," Kara says sternly to the guy, but she's lounging against his arm with a familiarity that turns Lee's anger into bile. So this is Sam Anders. Lee had hoped that Sam never ventured east of the Rockies except to visit the basketball court. Apparently he was wrong. "I thought they were interested in keeping an eye on you, since you're worth so much and all."

"I've got a break," Sam counters, dropping the helmet onto the seat of his bike, of which Lee is suddenly obscenely jealous despite the fact that it's powder blue: the thing puts the hot into hot rod and it must have cost a fortune. "So I walked into the shop, bought this, and came home. They can keep an eye on me from there. They've got my number."

"You're an idiot," she says. There's a fondness in it despite the edge in her voice. She is clearly married to this guy and Lee wishes he could turn and run, but the sidewalk is oddly vacant, and it would be humiliating and possibly dangerous to sprint away. New Yorkers are paranoid about men in blazers hurtling down the block at a dead run. "You drove all the way? On that thing? Grade-A stupidity. Your manager's gonna have your ass."

"I'm a happy idiot," he says, and kisses her again. Lee can't look away; he cranes his head for a better view as a couple of teenagers sidle past, chattering to each other. He wants Kara to look miserable kissing Sam. She doesn't. She pulls away afterward though, stepping out of his arms. Sam looks her over and whistles.

"All dressed up and you didn't even know I was coming home," he says in a low voice that makes Lee's blood boil. The guy's got at least six inches and twenty pounds on him, all of which seems to be muscle, which means it's going to hurt his hand even more if Lee punches him. Lee wants to head off down the sidewalk, catch the first train he finds and ride it anywhere, maybe hit the airport and buy a ticket not caring where he ends up, but he also wants to clock Sam for having his hands all over Lee's girl, and being pulled in two directions at once leaves him frozen here in front of her building with his hands in his pockets.

"Sammy," Kara says, her voice loaded, and Sam's eyes narrow. He turns his head and sees Lee.

"Oh shit," Sam says, and takes a step back, almost off the curb. "It's you."

"What the hell?" Lee demands, perplexed and angry, balanced on the balls of his feet in the trendy sneakers he bought because Zak ragged him about being uptight. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Sam," Kara says with a determined tone, stepping closer to Lee, "this is Lee."

"Goddammit," Sam swears, like he's never meant a word so much in his life. "Of course it is."

"What the hell _does_ that mean?" Kara asks.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Sam says. He offers Lee one hand, shaking his head. "Lee Adama? Sam Anders."

Lee shakes Sam's hand, if only because he'll be damned if Sam out-manners him. "Heard a lot about you. You play a good game. Can't remember meeting you or telling you my last name, so I can only congratulate you on being an avid follower of mid-level UN translators - that's a political mind to be proud of."

"Yeah, well, I remember, and it's got nothing to do with Earth politics," Sam says, which strikes Lee as fairly odd. Sam's brow is furrowed. "Goddammit, I'm not going through this again."

"Sam, what the hell?" Kara says again, putting her hand on Sam's arm, and the way Sam turns to her, the look they share, makes Lee want to grind his teeth. "Seriously, what the _hell_ is going on here? I know," she says as he opens his mouth, "I heard, I wouldn't believe you. At least gimme a chance to not believe you, or you're just being a jackass." Sam lets out a long breath, staring at Kara, and Lee hadn't realized how tense he was, until Sam seems to shake something off, slouching into himself with a defeated look Lee can't understand, given the circumstances.

"Let's go upstairs," Sam says. "I'm not talking about this on the sidewalk." He turns and heaves the motorcycle up onto the sidewalk, and Kara holds the door open for him as he parks it in the lobby. Lee turns to leave - he'll be damned if he's going to watch them be all lovey-dovey, or at least so damn _used_ to each other - but Kara grabs his hand and pulls him along.

"I shouldn't be here," he whispers to her.

"The hell you're leaving me to listen to this by myself," she hisses back, hauling him through the door. "If you're with me, you're with me all the way." Lee nods and she nods back and starts up the stairs. He trails behind her. Sam opens the door to Kara's apartment, goes straight to the stove's broiler, pulls out a glass, and fills it at the tap. He stands at the sink with his back to them, slugging it back. Lee hates him for that: it took him weeks to understand Kara's haphazard shelving, but Sam seems to know where everything is. Kara stands between the two of them, looking out the window.

"All of this has happened before," Sam says over the noise of the water as he gets a second glass.

"All of what?" Lee asks.

"This," Sam says, "All of this misery." He saunters into the living room and folds himself into a corner of the couch like he owns the place. Lee bristles and then remembers Sam probably does own it; Kara's apartment isn't the fanciest place he's seen, but the renovations on this and the studio can't have been cheap, and two adjoining apartments in Manhattan can't have been either. It occurs to Lee that Sam is loaded, that Kara could live in a much nicer building, that his own pay grade isn't anywhere near NBA-standards, and that Kara doesn't seem to care about that, which is almost comforting but not quite.

He sighs and perches on a stool by the kitchen counter. He wants to be near to Kara, to haul her into his lap and hold her close, but she doesn't appreciate that under ideal circumstances, and with her husband here, he's not sure what she'd do. Kara chooses a big chair across the room from both of them and flings herself into it, her skirt riding up her legs so that Lee has to look away or get lost in the memory of her skin. She doesn't pull it down.

"Spill," she commands Sam, who's swigging water. "This what? Drop the mysterious act."

Sam leans forward and puts his glass down on the coffee table, rubbing the back of his neck like it's painful. "You're not gonna believe me. It sounds insane."

"Normal conversation with you then," Kara teases, and Lee gets angry all over again at how easy they are together, how married. But she glances at him and the part of him that wants to hit Sam sits down again. He and Kara have a connection and nothing's going to change that, not Sam or hell or high water. Not even death, he thinks, and wonders where the thought came from.

"Look, Sammy, we can't even try to believe you unless you spit it out," Kara says.

"All of this has happened before," Sam says again, and squeezes his neck. "It's like reincarnation. I mean, kind of. I don't know how to start."

"Once upon a time," Kara suggests, her voice snarky, but her eyes don't snap the way Lee would expect. She's actually giving Sam a chance to spin them whatever unbelievable yarn he seems to have lined up.

Sam blows out a long breath. "Yeah, that'll work, actually. Once upon a time, we lived in another universe. I mean, it sounds like a fairy tale."

"You and me and Lee," Kara says flatly.

Sam nods.

"We lived in another _universe_," Kara says, crossing her arms. She glances at Lee.

"Well, another solar system at least," Sam says, scruffing his hand through his hair. "I mean, I don't have a star map or anything. I'm not an astrophysicist."

"Yeah, they don't go in for science fiction," Lee says, unable to help himself. "This is insane. I mean, you really weren't kidding, man."

"I wish it were fiction," Sam says. "But all three of us, we lived in another solar system, a long time ago, and your dad was there too, Lee. I'm not lying. And Tigh, Saul Tigh, he was there."

"How the hell do you know Saul?" Lee demands. He's never really liked his dad's best friend and XO, but the man's been around as long as he can remember. "I'm gonna think you _have_ been stalking me!"

"Look, I wouldn't want to make this up," Sam says. "But we did. There were twelve colonies full of people, twelve planets plus some mining settlements and stuff. Technologically they were way ahead of us - they built these robot servants who started to get minds of their own, like that _I, Robot_ movie. We'd all started off on this one planet, but there was a war, and everyone took off and split up. We had spaceships, with, you know, faster-than-light travel like you see in the movies, only it sucked. And this technology kind of like virtual reality - you could upload your personality to a computer and then it got downloaded into a body that had been constructed, so if your body died, you just got a new one. I think it started out as an experiment, when they were rebuilding the robots and trying to make them better, but there was another war, and then the robots built their own robots who looked like people and tried to destroy all the colonies. They coordinated a nuclear attack on all the planets and they killed pretty much everyone, and that was the last war. That was the war we were in. Well, I mean, yeah. We were in it. There were only fifty thousand people left after the bombings, and most of them were on spaceships, under the command of William Adama."

They all sit silent for a moment. "Original," Lee says. "My dad's an admiral now, and he's an admiral in space too. This is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard. I mean, where do you even come up with this stuff? People who live on the internet, who can download into some kind of prefab corpse? Wars between robots and humans? This isn't a movie, Anders, this is my life."

"Let him talk," Kara commands, and Lee sulks on his stool. Only the thought of the look Kara gave him and the promise in it is keeping him from walking out the door. Nonsense or not, this story is setting up an ache in his bones. Maybe just because he's pretty sure Sam is trying to set up his marriage with Kara as an epic love story for all time and the reason Lee should fuck off, but maybe it's something else. He's secretly glad when Kara says, "Go on, Sam." He wants to hear whatever end Sam has invented.

"You were a pilot, Kara. You were the best goddamn pilot the worlds had ever seen. You and Saul Tigh were mortal enemies, though, because he was the second-in-command and you were always breaking the rules. Lee was a pilot too, a good one, and your superior officer."

"I bet that worked out great for him, and for whoever the fuck Tigh is," Kara drawls, snorting, which makes Lee smile fondly despite himself. Sam smiles too and catches Lee's eye and they both look away. Oddly, it makes Lee feel that he and Sam could be friends, or at least have a beer together, and talk about Kara Thrace, force of nature. Her skirt is still rucked up her thighs and it's driving Lee crazy. He's noticed Sam's eyes lingering there too.

"It was shitty for him," Sam says. "Especially since you were engaged to his brother, before the war, when you were still his flight instructor. You were training him on the, I guess fighter jets are the best comparison, but he wasn't good enough, and Zak died in a crash, and Lee blamed you and Admiral Adama, because the admiral pushed them both into the fleet, he said."

"You don't even know him," Lee says, his hands curling into fists as his big brotherly instincts kick in with a vengeance. He took care of Zak for too long to listen to this. Sam can bullshit whatever he wants about the three of them, but he's not going to talk about Zak, especially not Zak dying. Lee's so shaken up at this point that all he needs an excuse; Sam's taller, but Lee thinks he's madder, and he wouldn't lay odds either way in a fight. "You shut your mouth. My brother would _never_ join the military. Hell, he's barely tough enough for Wall Street."

Sam brightens. "Zak's alive? Thank God."

"You're not allowed to be grateful about the life of someone you don't even know," Lee snaps, knowing he's being irrational. He had a plan for today, lunch and romance and most likely a long romp with Kara, between the sheets or wherever, and it's all been blown to hell now that her husband has showed up with this psychotic fairy tale.

"It has to be different this time around," Sam says, and his voice is so full of certainty and pain that Lee shuts up. Even in all his years of translating impassioned political speeches, he's never heard anyone speak with that much feeling. It strikes a chord somewhere in him, so that his anger and his fear and his jealousy are all suddenly tinged with sorrow. He can't help listening, despite his suspicion that this is just some tale Sam is spinning to drive him away, to make him leave Kara, if only to avoid getting tangled up in this much crazy. But Sam's face is drawn. He looks like he's telling the truth, or at least what he believes is the truth.

"Looks like it's different already," Kara says from her chair. She sounds like she's almost enjoying herself; the teasing, snarky tone is back in her voice. "Put me in a plane and see."

"God, no," Sam says. "Not again. No more war, no more exodus. The survivors tried to get away, but the robots, the Cylons, they just kept coming back. They always found the fleet. It was awful. We found a planet, settled for a while, and then the Cylons found us and occupied the planet and Kara, they kidnapped you, and Lee, you were on the ships, you and the admiral, cut off from the rest of us, and even after you rescued us, it was awful. All we could do was jump away, again and again, looking for Earth, running out of food, no shelter, no rest, and even when we had almost made peace with the Cylons because they were tired of running too, some of them betrayed us and half the survivors died. Kara, you died, and I died, and Lee, I hope to God you lived for a while, but it can't have been what you hoped for."

Lee wants to say something, but he can't find the words. The story isn't going at all the way he expected; the longer Sam talks, the more Lee wants to hear, despite himself. He thinks of the stars he sees haloing Kara's face in their intimate moments. He thinks of the sweeping, epic rush of feeling that nearly knocks him off his feet when he sees her. That's always been out of proportion to the short time he's known her - maybe, if they had another life together, before, it explains the way he's been overcome by her now.

"How did we meet, Sam?" Kara's voice is skeptical, but it's soft.

"You were on a mission from the President," Sam says. "President Roslin. Disobeying the Admiral, as usual. Commander Adama, then. You came back to the Colonies looking for an artifact. I was there, fighting in the Resistance against the Cylons. You found the arrow, went back to the fleet, and came back to drag our asses off the planet. I owed you my life. I loved you." He shrugs. "I loved you more than my life, but it was never enough for you. You loved me. You loved Lee. You still loved the memory of Zak, I guess. We were doomed from the start. You married me on New Caprica, because you were scared and I was safe, I mean that's what you told me later, but I know that you never got over Zak, and you never got over Lee, and we all made each other miserable. Dee, that was Lee's wife, they got married right after we did, she got the worst of it, but it was her decision. You were always in love with Lee and all of us knew it. It was a shitty situation in the middle of the apocalypse. I guess we all thought it couldn't get worse."

"It can always get worse," Lee murmurs. His head is full of flickering half-memories, or maybe they're just images from movies he's seen, but either way, he almost believes Sam now.

"God, it was a rush, though," Sam says. "We thought you were dead for a while, K, and it was hell, but at least I learned to fly. There's nothing like seeing the stars through the cockpit, just a piece of glass and a flightsuit between you and the black." He shakes his head slowly. "I'll be fucked if I know why I'm the only one who remembers, because I've seen the others sometimes, and it's hell, but the memory of the stars, that's almost worth it."

"What others?" Lee asks, a wall of photographs flashing in his mind, just as Kara says, "The stars?" in a voice that's tinged with something Lee can't describe.

"I put up the stars for you in case you remembered," Sam says tenderly. "In case it would help. The others, the other Colonials, I think most of them are here too. Reincarnated or whatever. I don't know how we came back - maybe we all downloaded somehow. The robots still had some of the technology. I've tried talking to Helo, and to Tory and Sharon, but they don't remember." Lee looks at Kara, who shrugs; she doesn't know them either. The half-memories are gone, locked behind something in his mind. "I gave up after a while. When I see someone from the Colonies now, I just walk past."

"You didn't walk past me," Kara says.

Sam gets up and kneels in front of her chair. He clasps her hand. Kara narrows her eyes. "I wanted to," he says. "I wanted to leave it all behind, forget it ever happened. But Kara, I _love_ you. I saw you and all the feelings, the sort of-memories I'd always had, everything fell into place. You made everything make sense. I knew it wouldn't be forever, but I couldn't let you go." He looks at Lee, who tries to glare at him, but he can't forget that he's the interloper, and anyway, Sam's starting to make sense to him, which ought to frighten him. "You and Lee, you were always hung up on each other, but it never worked. Maybe it was the military thing. Maybe it was Zak. I tried my best to stay out of it, even told you to be with Lee, but we were all so goddamn stubborn."

Kara snorts, looking down at Sam. "As if I ever took orders from you." Lee rolls his eyes too - as far as he can tell, Kara's never asked permission for a thing in her life.

"No," Sam says, "you never did." He sighs. "Anyway. I promised myself if Lee ever showed up, then I'd leave."

"You're going?" Kara asks, sounding startled. "You just got here and you're going?"

"As if it's ever been easy, K," he says, gazing into her eyes in a soulful way that makes Lee want to gag, except that he's sure he's done it himself. "But I knew it wouldn't be."

"So you're giving up on me?" she demands. Lee's heart jumps. On the one hand, if Sam leaves, then his way is free and clear and he has Kara to himself again. On the other hand, he wants to protect her, and whatever her relationship with Sam has become, they've meant something to each other, and she'll hurt, and hell yes, he's jealous about that, and besides which, she'll shove him into next week to avoid letting him comfort her. Sam's going to wreck everything whether he stays or goes.

"K," he says. "Look around. You've never needed me the way I needed you. The proof is sitting right over there." He nods toward Lee.

"Oh, and you've been faithful, Mister Basketball Star," she scoffs. "We made that arrangement for a reason."

"Yeah," he says, "I agreed to that because I didn't want to lose you before I had to. I've never taken advantage of it. I mean, before us, sure, I played around, but nobody else is you. I meant those vows." They stare at each other for a long moment. Lee shifts uncomfortably on his stool and looks away. Sam's story feels like a puzzle where all the pieces look like the wrong shape and the wrong color, but they fit together. Lee thinks about the stars. He thinks about the strange, unearthly things Sam knows and the way the story hits him in a place nothing else has ever touched. Yeah, he may be a chump, but he isn't sure Sam isn't telling the truth.

"It's always been you, Kara," Sam says. "But I learned my lesson last time around. I'm done. I quit. Sometimes it doesn't matter how much you love someone, because it's never gonna work out the way you hoped." He stands up. "You and Lee, maybe this time you've got a chance. Maybe you can fix whatever went wrong. Maybe next time around, God forbid, you and I will get our chance, though I hope this is the last go-round. But I'm not gonna go through what Dee went through. I'm not gonna watch you go back to him over and over because you just can't shake loose. I've got something to lose this time. I've got a life I actually like. I know who I am and where I'm going. The only thing I can do to change things is leave. It's gonna be a clean cut." He takes a couple of steps toward the bedroom, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a phone. "Look, I'm gonna call a hotel. I'll call our lawyer's office too, let her know we'll be contacting her about beginning divorce proceedings." He closes the door behind him.

Kara bows her head, staring at her hands.

"Kara," Lee says, stumbling off his stool. One of his legs has fallen asleep and it tingles as he lurches toward her. He stops a few feet away and shoves his hands in his pockets. She has a dangerous air; he doesn't want to get any closer.

"What the hell just happened?" she says to the air.

"I don't know," Lee tells her, "but something..." He hesitates. "It sounds crazy, but I believe him."

"Why wouldn't you?" she snaps. "You get the girl. You win."

"Kara, nobody's bartering you," Lee says, the stress of the afternoon putting an edge on his voice. "Hell, you're the center! You're the sun and we all go around you. It's still your choice. I think it always has been."

"What the hell do you know about it?" she asks.

"As much as you do," Lee says. "If he's insane, then I am too, because that felt right, when he told it. It makes sense, in a crazy way, or at least it explains what I feel when I look at you, why you matter so goddamn much, if I lost you before." He takes a deep breath. "Sometimes a man's just got to take control of his own destiny."

"So what, you're ditching me too?" she snarls. "You're siding with him? For the good of all humanity, to avoid robot wars?"

"No," Lee says. "If I gave you up last time, then I was a goddamn idiot. There's no way in hell I'm not seeing this through."

Sam comes out dragging a suitcase. "Kara, I'm leaving."

"Just like that, you're gone?"

"Yeah," Sam says, slouching a little. "For all our sakes. I'm gone."

"You're a presumptuous asshole, Samuel," Kara says, and launches herself out of her chair. She stomps into the studio and slams the door so hard that the upstairs neighbors bang on the floor.

Sam sighs. "Good luck, Lee." He extends his hand, seeming to really mean what he says. Lee shakes it.

"I'll need luck, you mean," he says.

"We all will." Sam gazes at the studio door. "Fuck."

"How long has this been going on?" Lee asks. "All of this. If I believe you."

Sam cracks a smile, but it isn't a happy one. "Since the beginning of time, as far as I can tell. And believe me, I don't want to believe me either. Look, I know all of this sounds completely insane. But I'm not doing it to hurt her. I'm doing it to save her. Leaving her is like ripping my own goddamn heart out, but staying would be worse."

"She's not the kind of woman who wants to be saved," Lee parries.

Sam laughs. "No. No, she's not. You're right. I'm selfish. But it's my turn."

"You really never slept with anybody else?" Lee asks, surprising himself. "You're gone, what, eleven months of the year, and you never slipped?"

Sam shakes his head.

"Not once?" Lee asks.

"I'm not Jordan or Shaq," Sam says wryly. "Yeah, there are beautiful women, and now and again I've thought about it, but all my game is on the court."

"Jesus," Lee says, half-admiringly, half-intimidated.

Sam shrugs. "You love her. You understand. Now, maybe, but being with Kara, she's the whole universe, you know? After you've been in love with her for a couple thousand years, you try seeing anybody else. I don't give a damn about other women."

"Sure," Lee says dubiously.

"Besides," Sam says, "when I'm playing, it's like there's nothing else. No crowd, no cheerleaders - even my team is just there as part of the game. What I live for out there is that perfect pass, that perfect arc as the ball approaches the hoop." He drops the suitcase handle and mimes shooting the ball. Lee can almost hear the swish. "That's perfection," Sam continues. "That's all I need."

"Well," Lee says. "I guess I can't say see you around."

"No," Sam agrees. "Unless you want game tickets."

"I see the stars too," Lee tells him. "When I look at Kara. I thought it was...I don't know. My imagination or something."

Sam claps him on the shoulder and stoops for the suitcase again. "There's nothing like her in all the worlds." He trundles the suitcase toward the door, stooping a little to accomodate the short handle. One of the wheels is broken and the suitcase drags every now and then. "You might wanna order takeout - she'll probably be in there a while."

"Were we ever friends?" Lee asks. "Back then? Whenever?"

"Once," Sam says quietly. "For a while. There were a few months when we weren't all beating the emotional hell out of each other. But it was because we were already in hell." He looks up. "Have a good life, Lee. Take care of her, if she'll let you."

"Yeah," Lee says. "Wait, what about the bike? You can't strap that thing on it, can you? You need help getting it out?" He doesn't know where the sudden rush of charity came from, but hell, he might as well help Sam go.

"Forget it," Sam tells him. "It was for her anyway."

He walks out the door and shuts it carefully behind him. Lee listens to the sound of the suitcase scraping down the hall. He looks toward the ceiling, utters a heartfelt oath, gets a beer out of the fridge, and sprawls on the couch, waiting.


End file.
